Transformers: The Humbling Soldier
by Metalscale95
Summary: As a pause settles on the battlefield, one soldier reflects on his life as he remembers where he's from and how he got to where he is now.
1. Disclaimer

Disclaimer:

I do not own characters, places, or ideas belonging to Transformers or other related properties. Such property is owned by Hasbro, Takara, and other licensed individuals. This fanfiction is meant as a non-profit piece as I do not intend to or have the immediate means to profit from it.

A few terms to know:

Nanoklik - second

Cycle - minute

Megacycle - hour

Solar Cycle - day

Deca Cycle - week

Orbital Cycle - month

Stellar Cycle - year


	2. Slave of the Senate

The lone combatant charged, his arm-mounted SMG firing off tens of bullets per nanoklik, trying with all his might to claim one more life. In his optics, I could see the desperation, the overwhelming drive to prove worth to his life by taking another. In my weary and worn state, I did all I could to dodge while backed against a wall. As his rifle jammed for a brief moment, I took the opportunity to land a single round between his optics from my DMR. As his lifeless chassis fell to the ground, I slumped and sat against the section of wall which was all but crumbling from the conflict so I could 'catch my breath so to speak. Scanning the area, I took notice of the lull and absence on the energon-soaked battlefield. Countless bodies adorned the rusted and corroded metal ground. It was desolate and cragged, and a haze had rolled in, ever so slightly obscuring my periphere. But I could clearly see all parties present before had retreated, save for the foolish or stubborn. I easily fell into the category of stubborn for the Autobots.

I knew the Cons were regrouping right now to prepare for another assault while the Autobots worked to reinforce their defense. Both had to reassess their strategies as the Decepticons had failed to break the Autobot blockade through this major supply route. At the same time, the Autobots knew their foes would not stay down forever or long at all, so the defenses and troops had to be prepared to counter. Even if it meant some time to rest. Knowing all this affirmed I had time to sit back and ease up on my servos, actuators, and other mechanisms.

While my largely black with purple chassis relaxed, I chose to reflect on my life thus far, and to be honest, it has been pretty scrapped up. I released a chuckle at the bluntness of my statement, also coughing up a little energon, leaking from the battle mask shrouding my face. It was clear the origin of the problem was an internal one but I did not care. I hurt too much from the more serious dents, chippings, and few bullet wounds I received mere moments ago. By comparison, a minor energon leak not depleting my reserves noticeably was of little concern. But I knew my better half would be up in arms at my negligence, so I deployed the repair drone I had on hand to tend to my more serious wounds. I gently rested my head against the cold, dead wall and fell back into my memories. From my time as a Senate tool to a blind Decepticon flunky to an Autobot seeking redemption for my crimes.

My first recorded memory was coming online in a banal, unidentifiable warehouse standing at attention with twenty-nine identical brothers and sisters, each painted as grey as the walls that entrapped us. Each of us were lined into six rows of five, where I was number four of row two. Up above, on the catwalks, several Cybertronians walked by, inspecting us. They talked about how "magnificent" we looked, while one constantly wondered how effective we would be. As the majority of my siblings remained motionless, awaiting instruction, I and several others briefly tilted our heads and watched them, wondering everything we thought important. Who were we? Who are the people up above? Why were we built?

Soon enough our questions were answered. My siblings and I were created with the purpose of being assassin's for the Senate. Our overseer and supervisors would never use the term specifically, preferring to use the term ARAU. It stood for advanced reconnaissance assault unit, but my brothers, sisters, and I all knew the term 'assassin' fit our job title better. The individuals seen upon activation was an unnamed master engineer (whom we never met again), the overseer of the project, and Senator Proteus, the project's primary benefactor. Our task was fairly simple: engage enemies of the Senate in covert, unofficial missions to quell possible and confirmed insurrection and rebellion. Each of us were assigned to teams of three and our names were derived from those teams. One of us was to be a tactical officer, one an engineer, and the other a field operative. I was apart of Team Smoke alongside Smokescreen, our tactician, and the engineer, Smokejumper. My name was Smokesniper and I was the field operative, the one who pulled the trigger. It was then I chose my signature blue and sparse yellow paint job.

For a time, our lives were conducted mission to mission in an effort to eliminate Senate enemies. Each one dropping into scrap metal. Smoke, Stealth, and Star Teams were (statistically) the best and eventually that shone through when the other teams were deemed failures and discharged, or were deemed KIA. At such a point, another team was chosen to clean up the mess and wipe away all evidence, including witnesses. Especially witnesses. In hindsight, I wonder how many were actually innocent bystanders who had nothing to do with the conflict. Leaving just the three teams to remain.

Even though I said my life was mission to mission, there were moments between of brief instances of life. Like connecting to my siblings. (Smoke)Jumper and (Smoke)Screen were always obsessing over a new idea or something in their downtime. Something I might end up utilizing in the field but I cared little for such machinations, most of which were not authorized by our Senate handlers. It was my brother Stealth Saber who I became quite close with during these times. He was one of us who tilted his head back in the warehouse.

Saber was arguably the most outstanding one of us. Not due to astounding merit or great feat, but because he didn't really care too much for our work. When Saber was out in the field, he said he was "Always on auto-pilot, not even thinking while carrying out objectives." He wanted to do something other than shoot people. I remember laughing at him the one time because he wanted to be an artist, forcing me to comment on how he couldn't draw even if threatened with a swarm of scraplets. The follow-up question he raised though had left a lasting impression since. "What would you want to do if you could choose a new line of work? Who would you want to be?" I regret not answering and never having made up my mind.

Much later, Smoke team was dispatched to find and eliminate Stealth Saber. We had been told he and the rest of Stealth team had attempted to escape from the program without proper discharge and the Star team had tried to rebel, prompting their destruction. I personally took the lead on finding Stealth Saber while Jumper and Screen went after the others. Since I had gotten to know Saber well, I knew where to look for him and eventually cornered him in an alley. I tried to reason and convince him to come back, but he was paranoid and delusional. In his unstable mental state, Saber drew his weapon on me, but was gunned down by a well placed bullet from Screen. It was then I started dwelling on his question, and on whether our Senate supervisors ever intended to let us go.

While I lingered on these thoughts, my brothers relished in the newfound opportunities. With there being only three left of the original thirty, Smoke team had a large supply of resources and subsequent freedoms due to our loyalty. Screen put it to the test, designing elaborate plans I thought were unnecessary. Jumper on the other hand, developed a multitude of weapons and tools. Including a multi-pronged spark extraction and execution device. Said Spark Extractor (as he called it) has since been completely ingrained into my superstructure. I couldn't care about the freedoms since I have always been performing at my most effective and efficient and didn't see a need to change.

But our freedoms did not last. As the Decepticon movement, our latest target, continued to grow and grow, I was dispatched more frequently to dwindle their numbers. But in all my efforts, I could never eliminate any members of the leadership. After several consecutive failures, Jumper, Screen, and I were shackled by the Senate. Our continuous "failures" displeased them and so they chose to branch our sparks to large, hulking triple-changers, each identical to one another but their color schemes identical to who they were bound to. They were to accompany each of us when an assignment was underway to ensure mission completion. At first I felt insulted by their lack of faith in my capabilities, but their true purpose was to spy on our minds.

We came to discover this when Smokejumper noticed someone else was poking around in his memory logs. Our frustration at the situation boiled higher day-by-day to the point it was not well hidden from an unlikely ally: Megatron. Our handlers would disable the mental link between us and our forced partners while we are not on duty. Thank Primus because it came in handy one day on the town when a nameless agent of Megatron approached us. The three of us agreed to an intimate, secluded meeting with Megatron and some of his lieutenants. Namely, Soundwave and Shockwave because he had yet to recruit Starscream to his cause.

After we met and talked, mostly everyone else as I analyzed the conversation, the Cons made a plan to free us. Shockwave figured the titanic bots were being subdued by a cognitive device disabling their natural mental processes and will and gave us each a specialized scanner to detect the inhibitors. We had to time it right or else our handers would discover our plan. Even had to secure the Decepticon meeting in specialized storage drives so they weren't noticed. Ultimately, the work paid off as we confirmed Shockwave's suspicion.

Several more risky meetings with Megatron and his Decepticons, Shockwave handed us more unique tech. Working off the scans we acquired for him, he was able to create a patch to disable and fry the inhibitors. All we had to do was slap the things on our respective titans and hide it from them as the scans revealed something alarming to Shockwave. Should the Senate handlers find reason, the titans are designed to terminate their own sparks, and with it ours.

We spent days trying to find the right opportunity and found it during the return from a successful mission. The op was pretty routine, but when we were going through the final stages of disabling the mental links, one of us tripped the sensors. To date, I don't know who it was but at the time my concern was saving my life. I readied the patch and sped to my titan. As he swung his arm to deflect me, I slipped by and snuck the patch onto his neck, disabling him momentarily. Security soon arrived in overwhelming numbers and I had to fight them off on my own. Until the titan came back online with his mind belonging to him again.

"Going to kill me?" I asked.

He responded with a simple "No."

"Then I suggest you help me get us out. They'll want to terminate you too."

"Understood." With his help, we wiped out the group of security drones. The fight was so surreal I couldn't believe what was happening. As we gunned and weaved through the fight, my titanic partner and I reacted to each other instinctually. The link between us became a weapon as our thoughts mingled with one another to see, hear, and feel what the other did and be able to cover one another.

When the last guard fell, I took a moment to ask a simple question. "Got a name?"

"Gigant Bomb. You are Smokesniper, correct?"

"Correct. But you can call me Sniper too. My brothers do."

"Understood."

With our introduction out of the way, Gigant and I took off to find our brothers. Arriving in the command room, Jumper, Screen, and their titans (Dreadwind and Dreadwing respectively) were just cleaning up their messes. While Screen disabled whatever backdoor programming and tracking devices the Handlers had left in us six, the rest of us set charges to detonate the building and everyone left inside. All I thought while I set up the charges was 'This is payback for Stealth Saber you monsters.' With our shackles undone and our final task complete, all six of us flew out at breakneck pace and left the building and our previous employers in a ball of flame engulfing everything we used to know.

On that day our lives were changed as we looked on the smoke clouds raging through the sky from dawn till dusk. The day began with us as pawns, tools for the Senate to use and throw away when they felt threatened. It ended with us proudly bearing the Decepticon emblem upon our chassis. As we our time of slavery ended, our time of freedom had begun. Or so I thought…


	3. Decepticon Tool

I felt an overwhelming wave of euphoria wash over me as I relived the first moment in my life where I felt free. It was so substantial I was repelled from my mind. The sensations as equally real and fresh as I relived the events. The joy of avenging the deaths of our siblings, of Saber. The ability and freedom to do as I wish. But just as easily did I feel happiness, so too did I feel dread. The dread which came from repaying my debt to my saviors. Knowing there was time before the fighting resumed, I slipped back into the peace and torment my memories brought.

The early stages of the Decepticon movements melded into a haze. The slaughter of the Senate as well as early confrontations with the Autobots just seemed to happen so fast. But for me, my brothers, and our partners it was a time of patience. It was during these times, we were not present on the frontlines. No, we were confined to Shockwave's labs as he did what he could to undo the machinations the Senate performed to branch our sparks. Unfortunately, he was not one hundred percent successful. While he managed to ensure the loss of one would not silence the other, the method used to tie our fates was too crude, too extensive. If one would die, the survivor would survive but left with a scarred spark, forever aching from the pain and loss.

When we were finally authorized for active duty, my brothers, our partners and I were assigned to Shockwave's personal detachment. Our special skills were well suited to his needs. Jumper and Shockwave worked off each other marvelously as both were scientists to the core. But they had their differences as Jumper was more devious while Shockwave more practical. Screen and Shockwave were both highly logical individuals with a hint of mercilessness in their planning. Their respective titans, Dreadwind and Dreadwing, acted as bodyguards and were decent advisors sometimes. Meanwhile, Gigant and I were assigned to carry out missions to scout and retrieve valuable technology or intelligence.

We didn't mind. After all, Gigant and I weren't intellectuals per se and lacked a distinct level of drive to do much. We were still evaluating who we were through self-discovery. But we were more than willing to operate as needed for those who freed us. And the ops often weren't always time-sensitive so Gigant and I were able to take in the sights and move at our leisure. It was during this time he and I bonded. It was hard not to though. With each of us in the other's head, it made trusting easy. Never had to worry about lying or overcomplicating things. We never had to say a word as a mere thought conveyed everything needed. In mere moments, plans could be drafted, revised, refined, implemented, and/or scrapped. It was due to all of this we developed a very close, platonic friendship. It isn't hard for me to admit Gigant was close enough to be an Amica Endura, but we also never said the rites or whatever.

As time went on though, our assignments became less distant between each other. Free time was ever increasingly a luxury as Shockwave, Screen, and Jumper's tests and experiments required more preparations. But work was fine, something I knew, familiar territory. Gigant Bomb never really cared, just enjoyed being of use. It was something I could relate to.

Eventually though, Megatron had us two reassigned. While invaluable to Shockwave, our skills as soldiers were needed for tasks other than being delivery bots. Several times we were in charge of full battalions and legions. Other times, Gigant and I lead small squads on specialized tasks. And other times, it was just me and him creating insurgent points for an assault or sent to capture or kill specific people. When operating in the field, I focused heavily on effectivity and efficiency of the battle group while Gigant usually took to ensuring our weapon stores were up to par or well kept. He always thought it was a relaxing practice. This was our life for a hundred plus stellar cycles. Until we were given a special assignment by Megatron. One that would turn out to be the last I was ever paired with Gigant.

The prison of Kaon, the most terrifying facility owned by the Decepticons, was falling into disarray. Megatron usually would have sent Soundwave or someone else higher up the ranks, but the most trustworthy ones were already assigned to higher priority missions. So he tasked us with assessing the problem and fixing it, even if it meant taking control of the facility as the new wardens.

Walking along the sole bridge, the only way into the prison, the exterior was nothing out of the ordinary. The murky climate encircled the jagged spiked terrain safeguarding the structure at the center from an impromptu ground assault. The castle-like structure was a menacing and dark as the surrounding environment. Many large talons rising in lines towards and through the ever clouded sky. I could clearly see the anti-air guns strafing from side to side, indicating the air defenses were still in working order. Again nothing out of the ordinary for Kaon Prison. But as we walked through the gates, Gigant and I realized no guards were seen on patrol and no active ground defenses could be spotted. What few fears we had were compounded as we walked the halls, corridors, and cell blocks.

The facility was completely mismanaged from top to bottom. The interior and superstructure were weakened, bending from severe cracks in the beams and support pillars. Wires, cables, and panels were either exposed on the floors and walls or hanging from the ceiling. The sensor net was in need of severe recalibrations to the point the AA guns couldn't even hit a stationary cruiser. The guards were undisciplined and acted with impunity inflicting their wrath on the imprisoned populus or each other. Worst of all, the prisoner census was marginally nonexistent as many inmates were either gone already or just not logged into the system. Even those that were held there specifically at Megatron's behest were equally liable to be dead or just not there. The state of this prison was a disgrace to say the least and someone needed to answer for it.

Gigant and I immediately confronted the Warden, Lockdrop, but he sidelined everyone of our questions and allegations. After several solar cycles of trying to break through his thick cranium, I had not choice but enact martial law on the facility. The beginning was the execution of Lockdrop, an event put on display for the entire prison to see so they knew who was in charge. Gigant Bomb took up managing repairs to the prison and discipline training of the guards. I focused on security systems and prisoner census and organization. The rest was managed by the both of us. And if anything was not to the specifications we desired, they either changed or the hindrance was eliminated.

At the end of an orbital cycle (because that is how long it took) the prison was back in order. Guards acted as instructed and nothing more or less. Structural work was completed and maintained at optimal specifications at all times. Prisoners were all accounted for and dispersed based primarily upon crime, political priority, and even interrogation priority. Megatron's personal detainees were separated from all others in isolated cells so as to ensure they were properly accounted for.

There was also more fair treatment towards the prisoners. Those that cooperated were rewarded with some extra energon and referrals to lower-security facilities. Those that don't were left as is. If they continued to persist in their defiance, I deprived them of their rations until they proved cooperative. Little often did Gigant or I employ torture as we feared the resulting intel may be fabricated to relieve pain or stress. When it was used, I usually jumped straight to Shockwave's cortical psychic patch to pull the information out personally. And Gigant Bomb always waited near my body to ensure my safety. He and I had not become well liked by the guards due to our stricter policies, so ensuring each other's safety had become important.

We were in charge of Kaon's Prison for almost two full stellar cycles before a special inmate was logged into our system. He was an older Autobot, much older than myself, who had proved quite troublesome in the field. His multitude of alternative modes made him versatile in combat and slippery in retreat. His name was Wingblade and he was captured in a fluke accident when the Autobots were in retreat. A stray rocket from one of our own blasted an unstable wall in the canyon they were fighting in, entrapping and outnumbering the Autobots.

Over a few deca-cycles I had been incapable of breaking Wingblade's resolve to stay true to loyal to the Autobots. It was respectable but annoying and disruptive. Intel suggests he has knowledge of Bot troop movements, but without the information itself, I couldn't be certain of its validity. So I engaged the cortical psychic patch to dive into his mind. Unfortunately, I was able to verify he in fact had no valuable intel, or at least nothing we didn't already have. As I was about to disengage I chose to deviate from the original plan.

I chose to ask him why he was loyal to the Autobots. It was not standard and interrogations were only to be used for the purpose of acquiring intel but considering the circumstances, I needed to know this. I couldn't understand why the Autobots would continue to fight against us, we who were fighting for change against a now dead tyrannical regime. Or that's what I had believed. As I asked question after question, Wingblade willingly gave me answer after answer. And evidence to the evil the Decepticons committed. He claimed to be so forthright because he saw a good spark in me and didn't see why I would continue being a Con. The experience was jarring to say the least and even Gigant Bomb was unsure of what exactly I saw as he tried to make sense of the conversation that now lie in my mind.

After our chat, I had Wingblade transferred back to regular holding and returned to my duties. By the end of the deca-cycle, Gigant and I were recalled to Decepticon Command at Darkmount and a different warden was assigned to head the prison. It was then my life took a dramatic turn. Megatron had gotten wind of our treatment policy at the prison and was not pleased. He equated it now as being a resort for the enemy to enjoy rather than a punishment for them to fear. I tried to question how encouraging fear in inmates was productive at all, but he chose to question Gigant and I's loyalty to the decepticons. To prove our loyalty to live and die for the cause, he wanted us to fight one another. To the death.

I was not able to process the request. I know Gigant and I were silent partners and were seen as more reclusive, even with each other, but the mental link we shared had forged a bond through our endeavors, we had an implicit trust unlike any other, aside from our brothers. And Megatron wanted to break that which bound us. Before I could finish registering the demand, Gigant Bomb blindsided my jaw with a right hook. I regained my mind in time to dodge his stomp on my chest and from there it was me trying to keep from being hit. All the while Gigant was making a startling request through our minds.

"Kill me," he thought.

"Excuse me?! Neither of us need die!"

"If I do not or you do not, Megatron will kill us both."

"Then why me? I have more bled energon on my hands."

"Because I recall no past. My mind is empty of drive. Of desire. I have no future. You do. You have experience and more skills that makes you valuable. You think more than I which makes you valuable. You..."

"Shut up already and let's figure a way out of this!"

There was complete silence between our minds for several moments as we continued our mock duel before Megatron. "Do I need invoke Stealth Saber's dream? I know you haven't forgotten."

It was with that I snapped and an overwhelming berserker sensation overtook my body. There were few taboos my fellow cons knew well when dealing with me. One of which was bringing up Stealth Saber's name and Gigant Bomb intentionally ignored it. I deflected Gigant's punch, swiftly dropped him on his back, and produced one of my signature DMRs. As I took aim at the spark below his hull, I used the chance to say my goodbye in my thoughts. "I am sorry, my friend."

"The Autobot Wingblade said something befitting of now. 'Till all are one' brother."

A drop of lubricant was loosed from my optic as I unloaded six agonizing shots into his chest. I felt immense levels of pain with each shot for as his spark was pierced, I could feel mine scar. When I stopped firing, I staggered and clutched my chest as the pain in my spark was almost paralyzing. Once again I was helpless to save someone I had become close to, but this time was worse. I did pull the trigger that ended Gigant Bomb.

Megatron was ultimately pleased with my demonstration and permitted me to leave. As I walked away stumbling ever so slightly, my mind was in disarray. Our minds were linked to the end. I had seen all Gigant Bomb's memories, his thoughts, that which he admired, that which he hated. All of it. And even if I had just copies, they were forever trapped in my mind. I lost track of how many solar cycles I spent sifting through it all until I found the one memory I still have yet to forget. Within recent stellar cycles, Gigant Bomb was thinking over Stealth's dream.

Once again I felt my loyalty shift from my superior. Megatron used to have my respect in his goal to bring change to cybertron. Now I see his real goal is place himself at the top of a throne, built from the bodies of whoever gets in his way. And that was not going to fly with me, not if it meant sacrificing those I cared for.


	4. Redemption as an Autobot

Everything that had happened in my life up until then was orchestrated by someone because I was indecisive and chose to not act on my own. Stealth Saber and his team were killed because the Senate had decided it, and I was not able to decide for myself. Even freeing us from our fate was a thing marginally chosen by my brothers and the Decepticons we trusted. My missions and ops were decided from someone above. And Gigant's death was his own choice as he intentionally spurred my rage to end his life. Not one bit was chosen by me outright. I had decided from that day forth it would no longer be the case; I was done being a pawn. And my first independent choice was to betray the Decepticons, whether or not it led to my demise.

My original plan was to enlist the help of Smokejumper and Smokescreen, as well as their respective partners Dreadwind and Dreadwing. Unfortunately, that was not the result as before I reached their labs, I overheard the quad pair from outside the room. They were openly mocking myself and Gigant, calling us weak, foolish, and saying "They got what they deserved." I walked away my head tilted low, with only some disappointment. Deep down, I wasn't too terribly hurt. Our paths had diverged long ago, it was only now the results had shown themselves. My disappointment was from having hoped otherwise. I wasted no time accepting the facts and carried on with my personal mission.

Even though my mind was made up, I didn't immediately defect from the Decepticons. My efforts were directed to sabotaging their operations. Starting with a request to Megatron to oversee inspections of various command posts under the pretense I would not stray from the Decepticon way. He was pleased, yet obviously suspicious of my change of spark. Nonetheless I carried out my task with purpose. I would inspect the site and reported my findings back to Megatron so he could give them the direction he deemed necessary. Afterwards I did as instructed and moved onto the next post. But it was all a cover for my real objective.

The reason I requested the inspection duty was because of the unique encryption codes at each site designed to protect Decepticon transmissions from being intercepted. If I had a copy of each code, I could create a code breaker capable of decrypting Decepticon transmissions. The program would be invaluable to the Autobots for a time and the Cons would be forced to completely recreate their encryption program from the foundation up. And even then the code breaker would be useful for predicting future encryptions as Shockwave, Jumper, and Screen programmed with a unique style the breaker could identify. Smokejumper and Smokescreen may be highly intelligent and capable of many mental feats, but I had the hands on experience breaking through various programming types the field they did not.

Crafting the code breaker was complicated but doable and opened up the door to the next phase of my plan. But first I needed to find a way to get close enough to reach the Autobots. Originally I thought Megatron's next assignment was a hindrance until I noticed it was a blessing in disguise. He wanted a specific artifact housed within the the Iacon Archives and put me in charge of a five Con team to infiltrate and exfil with the artifact. I quickly made a plan and organized my team to head out. While Quarrel, Nightlock, Torrent, and Stonewall loaded up on the dropship, I was still divising on the complicated part of the plan. Eliminating my team.

The flight was uneventful to be accurate. Along the way, we discussed the simple plan: fly in with an unmarked ship with an Autobot IFF, dock at a port, use disguise modules to get close to the Archive, sneak in using an access hatch on the hull, grab what we needed, and exfil. It was simple and hard to botch if done right, but it wasn't my plan. As soon as we were in Iacon airspace, I sabotaged the mission at every turn. From getting the ship shot down outside the archives, forcing us to break in, and steadily getting each member killed except Nightlock. He had a special purpose I was going to take advantage of.

The only thing I was not prepared for was the presence of a notorious green and yellow Wrecker named Springer. He was well known among Decepticons as a warrior who excelled at controlled mayhem. Using Nightlock to distract him, I snuck past towards the vaults and handled the remaining security guards and defensive systems with relative ease. Deeper inside, I located the necessary vault and grabbed the desired artifact. On my way back, I knocked out Springer from behind with a restraining bolt and departed with Nightlock. On the way back he demanded to turn over the relic himself and take credit, stating "I will seem more credible than you who has a sketchy track record." He clearly didn't know me but I didn't argue as I handed him a dysfunctional fake of the real thing. But because he hadn't been the one to retrieve it, he wouldn't notice the difference.

Upon returning to Decepticon high command, Nightlock handed over the fake to Megatron. When he tried to activate it, the device exploded in his hand. Megatron was fiercely enraged to where he didn't listen as Nightlock explained he wasn't responsible. I took the moment to draw my blade and drive it through Nightlock's chest, silencing his whining and covering my tracks with his death. Megatron, though upset at the mission results, was pleased I killed an "incompetent not worthy to be called Decepticon." At the same time, with the destroyed relic in his possession, Megatron believed he still had some sway to manipulate the Autobots.

After my mission I held onto the real relic as I was shifted from battlefront to battlefront. I suspected Megatron was suspicious of my good behavior so I was relegated to my old role as a spy. While I was on recon for the 45th Legion, I caught wind of a meeting between Autobot leaders. Optimus Prime wasn't going to be present, but several other higher ups were. I chose this as my opportunity to make my move. I snuck into the Autobot camp and stealthily maneuvered my way to the war room before I readied a deadman switch.

Although I was met with (understandable) verbal hostility, the deadman switch protected me from any real harm. After offering them the (real) stolen relic, the encryption breaker, and various battle strategies and tactical plans I accumulated as a Decepticon, they agreed to my terms. I wanted incarceration for the remainder of the war. I had seen and caused too much death in my life thus far, blinded by lack of care with the Senate and later through my reverence for Megatron. And both caused the suffering of those I called brother. What I truly wanted was to stop fighting mindlessly.

And that's how things went for several stellar cycles, at Garrus-12 or G-12. A prison where Decepticon criminals went to disappear from public and private optics as G-12 was in no official record nor even remotely near any identifiable city or landmark on Luna-1. When the inmates heard of my betrayal, they all hated me and most attempted to take my life. I was able to fend them off easily as none had the skills I was programmed with and had honed over my life. But by the will of Primus, my stay was not to be permanent. The director of Autobot Intelligence paid me a visit and gave me an offer. Break me out by staging a coup and leaving a cadaver behind in my place to sell my 'death' during the coup. After that I would come to work for him under a new identity and do good work in the process. I turned it down but he was quite insistent. To appease the director, I gave him a non-committal response saying I would think it over.

After he left, I put it out of my mind and just did what I usually did to pass the time. Think about what kind of job I could do when I get out. I sometimes thought about maybe a simple industrial job. Nothing special and I could definitely build a foundation in fabrication skills. But I always wondered how long it would take till I got bored? I also thought maybe accounting or secretarial work to occupy my mind and maybe develop my people skills. But I always had to counter it with my distaste for repetition and paperwork as a whole. This kind of confliction of ideas constantly occupied my time as I evaluated, reevaluated, and then rejected or accepted ideas. But as I ran through the endless cycle, I started to evaluate the director's request. It didn't sound bad. Something I was familiar with. I would definitely see both field and office work, and could move between them as I or he saw fit.

I mulled it over until a full orbital cycle passed and the director returned. I agreed to join so long as several of my demands were met, most importantly I would choose my own ops so my conscience may remain clearer. The director agreed so long as he could override my request when it was of utmost importance. I obliged and by nightfall, G-12 was in disarray. As security scrambled to contain the incident, the director, his personal guard, and I were on an overlooking hill making way to a shuttle. Had to admit, I was impressed with how quickly the Autobots could mobilize, even if it was to partially sabotage themselves. "So do you have an idea of who you are now?" he asked.

I looked on the prison and shifted my armor of varying shades of blue to a scheme I had not seen in what felt like eons. My hull reshaped to primarily black with accents of purple, but my golden eyes remained. "Smokesniper is gone now." Massaging the voice modulator in my neck, my once deep, emotionless voice now mimicked the gentler tone of a long dead kin. "Stealth Saber is reborn." Stealth Saber always wanted another life. On that day, I chose to grant his wish. "Maybe if I play my cards right, he could be a hero."

As a precaution, I agreed to apply for Autobot Intelligence and run through the various tests required for entrance. Needless to say I passed with flying colors. Afterwards, my day-to-day job was threat analyses at Autobot Intelligence's Iacon headquarters. The facility was a nondescript skyscraper which blended into the city's skyline. The reason I was confined to hq was because the director wanted to keep me away from prying eyes as much as possible early on to ensure the "Smokesniper is dead" news got around. It was reasonable enough, but I eventually ached for the high-risk missions I used to participated in. Once I received the greenlight to operate in the field, investigative or intel reconnaissance were regular recommendations due to my familiarity with Decepticon systems and strategies. Sometimes I took up ops to infiltrate and decommission Decepticon facilities with high-threat levels.

One such op involved a major manufacturing facility where they were upgrading regular Decepticons into titan-class chassis. Those huge tanks were enough trouble as is, taking recruits and overhauling them on a mass scale was nightmarish. The most surprising aspect of the mission was an inconvenient blast from the past. One of my partners on it was the old Bot Wingblade who had escaped from Kaon Prison during a mass breakout. Though I tried to keep a distanced stance with him, he eventually realized who I was. But to my surprise, instead of trying to kill me, Wingblade thanked me for the lack of cruelty during my tenure as warden and now for turning over a new leaf. He agreed to keep my secret and to this day is one of my closest friends.

Ironically, later I was also tasked with assisting the Wreckers with a mission later on in my Autobot career. The irony comes as I was under the command of Springer. I doubt he'd recognize me now with my appearance and voice completely different, but his notoriety had yet to change. Compile that with the Wreckers own notoriety for destructive tendencies and it is easy to see why I thought it best to keep my history to myself. Our assignment was to retrieve personnel behind enemy lines, but security was going to be too tight to sneak in outright. So the Wreckers were here to besiege the place and distract the Decepticons so I could make my way inside and find the captives. Although the Wreckers seemed reckless and beyond control, I was able to see firsthand how coordinated and cautious they were, especially when the life of another was in the balance. And to be honest, despite his infamy, Springer was a decent leader and even better comrade.

After the op, I actually ran into Springer and Wingblade while making my way across Iacon and we stopped over at a bar. I think I had a glass or two too much engex because I ended up telling my secret to Springer. Next thing I knew I was trading fists with him in a nasty bar fight between us two with Wingblade trying to break it off until we both slugged him. We all woke up in a nearby alley the next morning, beaten and aching but chuckling as we found the situation entertaining. Springer said he started it to test my mettle and return the favor for the restraining bolt I slapped on his neck. But he could respect me trying to turn things around. Springer and I argue from time to time but just like Wingblade, I have come to call him brother-in-arms all the same.

Stellar cycles later and I was placed on desk duty again. I had been active in the field often; too often for the director's tastes and so he pulled me back to the Iacon hq to keep a low-profile. It was agonizing as I was making great progress in a high-profile case I had been working for deca cycles. Not to mention I had grown increasingly bored of paperwork. While I was there he requested I take part in a joint training program a drill sergeant at Iacon Police Academy had come up with. Initially the director was going to deny it, but figured it would be a unique opportunity and it would keep me busy for an orbital cycle or two. Although I initially denied it, I eventually said yes because I was growing increasingly bored from the lack of work variety at hq. Also because he would not stop pestering me!

So I trained a class of cadets for the time being. The police academy was comprised of two spartan and angular structures confined within a medium height wall with an overhang to keep out unwanted guests, or at least those that couldn't fly or jump high. The larger of the two was the primary teaching/training facility whereas the smaller one functioned as a barracks. The primary building was eerily similar to that of a few rectangles stacked upon each other which declined in width as the building reached higher and higher. One side was emblazoned with a substantial police badge symbol containing the letters 'IPA.' The yard was large and could accommodate a variety of simple and complex functions from an outdoor shooting range to a modular obstacle course. I kept this in mind when I trained cadets.

Just like with Wingblade I tried to keep a professional relationship with the cadets and other instructors. My advantage this time was the abundance of space to move around when there were breaks and I was granted almost total control of how I chose to proctor the cadets. However, one particular cadet proved nosier and more concerned than others. Her name was Roulette and I was already aware of her as she was among the top of her class. And I read the files on every cadet and instructor prior to arriving. I have definitely learned it never hurt to be informed. During the regular breaks allotted, I would always sneak away and spend my time on the roof, looking over the horizon. I don't know why I did it, but it felt right somehow, especially with the anniversary of Gigant Bomb's death coming up. After a deca-cycle however, Roulette had found my hiding spot and began to slowly keep me company. I won't lie, I enjoyed our talks.

She had gone through a similar experience long before. She was one of three sisters, the oldest was gunned down in a maraudicon raid of her hometown. While her remaining sister, Shadow Striker, chose to resort to crime and the Decepticons to cope, Roulette chose to become an officer to keep others from suffering as she had. For that alone she had my respect. As my time as her instructor progressed, we grew close and we continued to spend time with one another after my teaching time ended. I even attended the Academy's graduation ceremony to show my support. In the end, I grew to trust her dearly and with who I used to be. I chuckled once again realizing I may need reassess what the word secret means if a bunch of people know what it is already. Not long later, I went on a falsified mission at Autobot Intelligence's expense to Roulette's hometown and returned an old holo-photo of her family she left behind.

Within the next stellar cycle, she worked up the courage to inform me of the concept of conjunx ritus and subsequently, conjunx endura. I was startled by the realization we had been carrying out affirmation acts of affection, and more importantly, realizing I did in fact feel true affection for her. I spent some time trying to make certain I was truly who she wanted and trying to be sure I was actually ready for something like that. But Roulette proved more stubborn than I, she even talked me into being her sparkmate for our final act of devotion. As such, we each gifted each other a portion of our innermost energon and bound our sparks to one another. A thing I never thought I would willfully experience again.

With her help I was able to start turning my life around and let go of the past. I have since removed Gigant Bomb's memories from my mind into a storage drive for safekeeping and etched the names of him, the original Stealth Saber, and Roulette's deceased sister in our now shared apartment. When I am not deployed, and we are both off the clock, our days are just spent with each other. Either at home enjoying each other's company, or date nights on the town. Occasionally we will also 'hang' with our friends when they are available. I enjoy every moment of it as I feel I am actually alive and not simply existing between missions. For the first time in my life, I feel as though I truly have a reason to fight for. Friends and a loved one who want to see me make it home and through this war.

My memories and mind settled into place as a smile crossed my faceplate beneath the ever present battle mask. I need to remember to disengage that when I get home, Roulette prefers to see my expressions rather than listen for them. The attention my blissful mind retained was stolen by the thunderous march approaching. The Decepticons were nearing, their resolved renewed for another fight and for what I knew and could see before me, I was alone. Unbeknownst to me, that was not the reality as Autobot forces were not far behind. More to my immediate surroundings, Springer and Wingblade walked right up beside me, ready to take the fight back to the Decepti-creeps. Each offered a hand to raise me to my feet, which I gladly accepted. This battle may be arduous but I did not plan to die here, not when I have a home and life to come back too.

As I drew my burst fire rifle to supplement my DMR, I was slightly shocked by what was before me. I don't know if my mind was playing tricks on me or something but a translucent image of the original Stealth Saber stood just out in front of me. Smirking under my mask and speaking aloud, "Sorry Saber, I still don't have an answer to your question." Springer and Wingblade each shot me a glance. "But now that I have the chance, I am going to find out who I really am." I pounded fists with my two friends. "Just gotta get past this war first. I'll get back to you then."


	5. Author's Note

The inspiration behind this piece come from the song The Humbling River by Puscifer. The song resonated well as it seemed to speak to the past I forged for Stealth Saber. In the Transformers Universe, there are a multitude of characters who receive very little attention because the big, popular names always have to be center stage. Stealth was one of those left off to the side without even an identity. Ask Vector Prime gave him something brief but for a period of time Vector was not used by or with Hasbro. So I went out of my way to give him one. Aaaaaand maybe a little more than necessary to give him depth and portray the kind of character I see him as.

If this fic works out well enough, I think I might go more in depth to the various moments in his life I chose to briefly talk about.

Nonetheless, whether or not you like this fic, thank you for reading and enjoy your days.


End file.
